


when my time comes around

by growlery writes (growlery)



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Other, WIP Amnesty, mild peril but mostly hijinks, this is absolutely not canon compliant disclaiming that rn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery%20writes
Summary: Echo’s been exploring stitches. Gig follows them.
Relationships: Gig Kephart/Echo Reverie
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	when my time comes around

**Author's Note:**

> remember how gig was the person echo least trusted going into the wound? yeah. this was supposed to be a big long thing about their relationship bc it fascinates me but it never went further than this

The first thing they see is green, miles and miles of it, from the top of the tree where they found their footing to the edge of the horizon where it meets sheer blue. Echo takes a deep breath, inhales this new world, something peaceful settling in their chest. 

The second thing they see is Gig Kephart, falling out of the sky in front of them. 

“Fuck fuck fuck _shit_ ,” Gig yelps, and crashes through the canopy. Echo’s already leaping from their perch after him, pushing their shock and fear to the back of their mind with seasoned ease. 

It’s dark under the green, but light shines through the Gig-shaped hole; Echo skims down bark, following noise and carnage, precious seconds behind. They see Gig land on an outstretched tree trunk, scrabbling for purchase. They leap towards him, but he’s falling again before they can reach him. Heart hammering, they let themself drop. 

They catch up in seconds. It feels like hours, nothing but air and snagging branches holding them up, and then Gig is just below them, close enough to touch if they- just a bit further- 

Echo’s hands close around Gig’s shoulders and they drag him in close, flattening their body against his, spinning so he’s on top of them and they can take the brunt of the impact when they crash to the ground. 

“Shit,” Gig says, “is it like that every time?”

He’s breathing hard, scratched up and bleeding, _grinning_ , inches from Echo’s face. They shove at his chest and haul themselves to their feet. 

“Yeah, if you’ve got no fucking clue what you’re doing,” Echo says. “What the fuck, Gig?”

There’s an annoying level of worry in their voice. They make up for it by scowling at him. 

“I just wanted to see where you were disappearing to,” Gig says, and Echo says, “Motherfucker, you could’ve just _asked_ ,” and Gig shrugs. Or tries to, at least. He’s kind of too tied up in vines to move freely. Echo makes an irritated noise and starts ripping them off of him. 

“So what do you do when you’re here?” Gig asks, and Echo shrugs. 

“Never been dropped here before,” they say. “Gonna take a look around.”

Gig’s eye promptly pops out, arms and all, and Echo claps their hands over their face with a groan. 

“Put that back,” they tell him. “Do you have to film literally everything?”

Gig’s one eye blinks. His face twists into something Echo’s not really seen on him before; they’d say he looked sad, if they didn’t know he were physically incapable of feeling that emotion. 

Echo makes an exasperated noise. “Why,” they say, “are you like this,” and Gig’s grin is a little tentative, but it’s still real. 

“You know you love me,” he says, and Echo sighs. 

“Unfortunately,” they say. “You coming, then?”


End file.
